It's the Thought that Counts
by TearStainedAshes
Summary: For anderson-stole-my-jumper for the johnlockchallenges Valentine's Day gift exchange. Her prompt was "Sherlock tries to do something special for John and fails miserably. John loves him anyway." I hope you like it. Happy (late) Valentine's Day!


Hello everyone! Happy late Valentine's Day! This fic was for the Johnlockchallenges valentine gift exchange over at tumblr. A bit of a late entry, but better late than never, right? This was written for anderson-stole-my-jumper. I hope you like it my dear!

_In this fic: sickeningly sweet fluff, a bit of a case fic, pouty Sherlock, smut, anal sex, more fluffy goodness._

Enjoy!

_2-17: Edit! I added a bit to the part where John gives Sherlock his Valentine's gifts. I forgot to have Sherlock read the cards John got him. This is what I get for writing so late at night._

* * *

When John first brought it up, Sherlock didn't hear him because he was immersed in a time-sensitive experiment. The second time, Sherlock was asleep, passed out in bed still fully clothed. The final time, Sherlock was using some sort of blowtorch on an eyeball.

'What are you doing?'

'Hrm?' Sherlock looked up briefly and a small smile quirked his lips when he saw John. They had been dating nearly a year but had only been in a sexual relationship for two months. Sex was still new and exciting to Sherlock, and his cheeks still flushed whenever John looked at him. John was the first person who he had allowed to see him in an intimate way. The Woman hardly counted as they had never had sex. He'd only seen her naked that one time. John was the first and only person he had opened up to, body and soul.

He blinked and shook his head. 'Sorry. What was the question?'

'What are you doing?' John repeated.

'Oh. Just occupying myself. Sometimes it's _so_ hard not smoking,' he groaned out, his hand loosening on the tongs holding the eyeball just enough that it fell free and plopped down into his mug of tea. 'Oops.'

John laughed and sat in the chair at the head of the table, placing his elbows on the top and propping his head up on one hand, the other drawing idle circles on the tabletop.

'So,' he said conversationally. 'Have you got any plans for next Friday?'

'No. Unless Lestrade finds me a case.' Sherlock gave John a questioning look as he attempted to fish the eyeball out of his tea. 'Why?'

'Well, that's Valentine's Day. And I was wondering if there was something you wanted or if you'd like to go out with me? On a date?'

Sherlock, having fished the eyeball out of his tea and resumed his distraction, didn't hear what John asked.

'No,' he said automatically. 'Busy.'

John sighed and shook his head. He stood up and left Sherlock alone until dinner. He didn't speak, Sherlock didn't question it. He just ate quickly and found another distraction. Sherlock didn't notice anything was wrong until he got into bed. John was turned away from him and his entire posture read hostile and protective. He frowned and crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around John, spooning him like he knew he liked. He felt John relax a bit as he pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

'What did I do?' he asked softly.

'Nothing,' John said softly. 'Well, not really, but it's probably nothing to you.'

'What did I do?' Sherlock repeated.

'You...' John swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. 'You said you didn't want anything for Valentine's Day and that you didn't want to go out on a date with me.'

'Was that what you asked me when I was lighting the eyeball on fire?'

'Yes.'

'Oh. I'm sorry. I wasn't listening. So I just used my-'

'Default answer,' John interrupted. 'I know.' He turned around to face Sherlock and linked the fingers of one of their hands together. 'So... would you want to go out on a date on Valentine's Day?'

'Sure.' Sherlock grinned before his brow furrowed in confusion. 'When is Valentine's Day?'

John laughed and shook his head. 'Of course you wouldn't know when Valentine's Day is.' He kissed the tip of Sherlock's nose affectionately. 'It's the 14th. Next Friday.'

'Oh. OK. So, plenty of time to make plans.'

'Yes. Plenty of time to make plans.'

'OK. But why is this day more important that any other day?'

'Because Valentine's Day is all about showing the people you love and care about most just how much they mean to you.'

'And you can only do that on Valentine's Day?'

'No, but that's when it's encouraged most.'

'That's idiotic. Setting aside one day for lovers to proclaim just how much they love each other.' He paused when he saw the look on John's face. 'But... clearly this day is important to you, so yes, I'll go out with you and you can get me some gifts. I'll even do some shopping for you as well.'

'Okay. That sounds fantastic.'

'Okay.' They kissed softly until John fell asleep. Sherlock stayed up a while longer, thinking about what he could do for John for the Valentine Day. It needed to be something special, something intimate. He decided to do more research in the morning. His brain was actually quite tired and he very much enjoyed sleeping with John in his arms. So he closed his eyes, kissed John's temple, and fell asleep.

**...::-::...**

The next day John had work, so Sherlock was free to research Valentine's Day in secret. It seemed the traditional gifts ranged from simple chocolates and flowers to elegant jewelry, including engagement rings. Sherlock knew neither of them were ready for marriage yet, so he decided a ring was out of the question. So were the chocolates and flowers. They were far too simple and boring and utterly predictable. He searched through a few more sites before he found an article about romantic home-cooked meals. It seemed perfect. He could prepare John's favourite meal for their dinner date! They didn't have to go out to eat when he could cook for them! Now if only he could remember what John's favourite meal was.

**...::-::...**

'John?' The man in question looked up from his takeaway and at Sherlock.

'Yeah?'

'I was wondering... What's your favourite meal?'

'How do you mean?'

'Well, what is your favourite meal? The meal you would never tire of eating if you had to eat it every single day?' Sherlock twirled some noodles around with his fork, trying to seem inconspicuous.

'Oh. Um... well, my mum's roast was always my favourite. I don't think it was any different from any other roast, but just because she had cooked it made it taste better I think.'

'How did you mother prepare it?'

John launched into a speech about how his mum had prepared her roast. He had watched her many times and was able to describe to Sherlock how exactly she moved about the kitchen and what ingredients and spices she used and how long the roast cooked and how tender it was supposed to be when it was finished. Sherlock soaked in every detail and smiled and nodded encouragingly in all the right places. When John finally finished he was licking his lips just from imagining his mum's roast.

'Why did you want to know, anyway?' he asked after a few minutes.

'Well, it was something I didn't know about you, and I wanted to store it in my mind palace.' Sherlock tapped the side of his head with the end of his fork. 'You've got a whole wing in there to yourself.'

'Really?'

'Yes. Nothing about you ever gets deleted. I had to construct a new section specifically for you. Hopes, dreams, fears, the noises you make when I suck your cock. Things like that.'

'Oh.' John flushed slightly and coughed. 'I didn't realise you saved everything.'

'That little embarrassed blush is my favourite.' Sherlock smirked and John blushed further. Sherlock chuckled and bit a piece of chicken off his fork, already planning on how he was going to surprise John on Friday.

**...::-::...**

Throughout the next few days, Sherlock worked on his plan to surprise John for their first Valentine's Day together. He'd made a list of food and ingredients to buy for the roast, but he hadn't yet braved going out to buy them. Besides, he didn't want John to see it before it was time for it to be cooking. Next, he decided that candles needed to be placed around the flat for that romantic feel, and a fire going in the fireplace to keep the flat warm. And of course no romantic meal would be complete without classical music playing in the background. So Sherlock made a playlist on his iPhone and titled it "Mind Palace" so John wouldn't get suspicious should he need to use his phone for whatever reason. Then he made a list of supplies to buy and called it a day. He needed to get back to his distractions before he smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.

**...::-::...**

When Valentine's Day finally arrived, John was called in to work to cover the shift of someone who had called in sick. He pecked Sherlock on the lips and wished him a Happy Valentine's Day, telling him he'd see him around seven if things at work didn't get too hectic. Sherlock nodded and wished him a good day in return. He watched John leave and waved at him out the window when he turned to look up at their flat. They gave each other warm smiles before John's cab took off. When Sherlock was sure John was well on his way to Bart's, he dashed into their bedroom and hurriedly got dressed so he could begin shopping for their special meal.

He dashed outside, list in hand and wallet at the ready, and hailed a cab to take him to the local Tesco's. His knee kept bouncing the entire ride there. Nerves? Impatience? Too many emotions to possibly name? Who knew. But Sherlock assumed it was because he wanted everything to be perfect. He tossed some bills at the cabby before dashing out and rushing into the store. He stopped in his tracks when he realised just how massive the store was. His eyes widened slightly and he swallowed as he assessed the store. He decided that the food should come last, so he grabbed a trolley and headed for the candles. Or where he thought the candles were. He walked down every aisle for almost ten minutes before he found the candles. Once there, he froze in front of the wide assortment available. Tall, short, scented, unscented, layered scents, incense. There were too many to choose from. His brain was short-circuiting when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He jumped and whirled around to stare at the person. A fidgety employee was standing in front of him and was saying something.

'Sorry, what?'

'I was asking if you wanted any help?' the employee asked.

'Oh. Um... yes. I... this is my first Valentine's Day with my partner and I have no idea what I'm doing.'

'Oh. OK. Well, I recommend you go with the unscented candles. That way there won't be too many overpowering scents.'

'Ah. Logical. Of course.' Sherlock grabbed twenty of the shorter unscented candles and put them in the trolley. He grumbled a thank you and stalked off toward the food to get what he needed. He angrily tossed the ingredients into the trolley and went to the checkout, not choosing a chip-and-pin machine. He could only take so much frustration in a short period of time. The cashier didn't ask him any questions about if he had found everything he needed. He paid and grabbed his bags before stalking outside, a scowl on his face. He hailed another cab and was driven back to Baker Street. His bad mood lifted when he made it inside the flat and he began setting everything up. He started with the roast as it would take the longest. He pulled up the recipe John had relayed to him last night and began preparing everything down to the last detail. After the roast had been in the oven for hour, he began strategically placing the candles around the flat. He was just about to start a fire in the fireplace when his mobile went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and quickly answered it when he saw it was Lestrade.

'Lestrade,' he said bruskly. 'What is it? Where?'

'The victim's roommate asked me to contact you,' Lestrade said instead of giving him the location. 'Said he wants your help to discover the truth.'

'Great. Another fan. Where is it?'

'You don't want to know any of the details we've found?'

'No. Your officers are incompetent. I like to gather my own data. Address. Now.'

Lestrade sighed and gave Sherlock the address. 'I'll see you here in-'

'At least half an hour. John gets off work in twenty minutes.'

'Fine. Just get here.' Lestrade hung up and Sherlock pocketed his mobile. He let out a loud whoop and grabbed his coat, putting it on in a flourish. He dashed out of the flat and hailed a cab, telling the driver to take him to Bart's. He texted John on the ride.

_Lestrade's got a case. Want you there. Meet you outside in 10? -SH_

John's reply came a few moments later.

**_Yeah. Been a slow day. See you soon. x, JW_**

Sherlock chuckled at the little kiss John had sent him. He pocketed his mobile and his knee began bouncing again, but from excitement this time. A case! After two whole weeks! Finally!

John was standing outside Bart's, his bag slung over his good shoulder, when the cab pulled up. He smiled at Sherlock when the cab stopped in front of him and he climbed in. Sherlock gave the cabby the address of the crime scene and they were off again. Out of habit, he pecked John on the cheek and grinned at him. John took his hand and squeezed it. They rode in a comfortable silence, Sherlock's mind buzzing with possibilities. The cab stopped a couple blocks away from the crime scene and John paid for the ride, as usual. Sherlock had already jumped out and was impatiently waiting for John to join him.

'Case, John!' he said, a wide grin splitting his features. John laughed as he exited the cab and walked over to Sherlock. He pulled him down for a kiss, even though their rules said not to do so in public, to calm him down. Sherlock went lax in John's arms and hummed into his mouth.

'Calm your mind,' John said when he pulled away. 'Relax.'

'Relax. Right. Yeah,' Sherlock said dumbly. The kiss had certainly cleared his mind. He smiled down at John. 'Thanks.'

'No problem. Now let's go solve a murder.'

'Yes. Let's.'

They were let in the crime scene by Donovan and she lead them up to the third floor, where room 340 was open and two officers were standing guard in front of the door. Greg was talking to presumably the victim's flatmate.

'Ah. Sherlock,' Greg said when he saw them come in. 'Thank God. This here's Scott Bevan, flatmate of the victim, Tim Leng.'

Sherlock merely sniffed in acknowledgment.

'Right. Well, Mr Bevan phoned us when his flatmate didn't come out of the bath for a while. The door was locked so he couldn't get inside to check if things were OK. We had to break in to get to the guy. But by the time the first responders got here the guy was already dead.'

'Show me,' Sherlock demanded. Greg led the duo to the bathroom, where the vic was still lying in the bathwater. At least thirty little tea lights were positioned around the bath, but each one had gone out.

'Was he like this when you found him?' John asked as Sherlock looked around the room.

'Yep. Didn't even touch the bathwater or the candles.'

'Were they still lit when you got here?'

'Nah. They were all out.'

'You're all idiots,' Sherlock said, rounding on the DI.

'What?' Greg blinked at Sherlock in surprise. 'What do you-?'

'Locked from the inside? Candles? Are you really this stupid?'

'Sherlock,' John said gently. 'Tell us what you've found.'

Sherlock sighed and walked out the front door into the hallway.

'Look. There's a damp patch under the bathroom door. You can see it plain as day from out here. Now if you'll follow me out here.' He led John and Lestrade out onto the balcony where some towels were hung out to dry, not saying a word. He then went back into the flat and found Bevan, who was sat on the sofa as calm as could be. Sherlock walked right up to him and said,

'Your flatmate likes long baths. As does mine. So he goes and has a bath and lights all his candles. It's a small bathroom with no ventilation. Wet towels are taped around the door frame from the outside - there's a tiny bit of tape still here. The flames from the candles use up all the air and he slowly suffocates. Just like falling asleep. The wet towels are removed and the murderer contacts my assistant because he thinks he's cleverer than me and wants to show off a bit. Which I can understand. I like showing off. Who doesn't?'

'Wait,' Greg said, holding up a hand. 'So, _he_ did it?'

'Of course he did it,' Sherlock scoffed. 'Idiot thought he was being clever. He's one of those deranged lunatics who'll kill just to get my attention.'

Bevan didn't say a thing. The officers cuffed him and dragged him out to the squad car where he was driven back to NSY for booking.

'Thirty six seconds,' Sherlock said to John when they exited the building.

'What?'

'Thirty six seconds. That's how quickly I solved this.'

'Oh. Wow. That quick?'

'It was that stupid.'

'Well, not every crime can be clever.' John waved down a cab when they got to the main road. He opened the door for Sherlock and he shuffled in, pouting heavily. John sat next to him and told the cabby to take them to 221 Baker Street. Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. John sidled up to him and gently prodded him by his ticklish ribs. Sherlock squirmed and pushed John's hand away.

'Hey,' John said softly, moving his hand down to Sherlock's knee. 'I'm sorry the murder wasn't more elaborate. But at least you got a case. Do you want your presents now so you can feel better?'

'Presents?' Sherlock perked up slightly but didn't look at John.

'Yeah.' John reached into his bag and pulled out two red envelopes and a box from Sherlock's favourite sweet shop. 'Read the cards first. The sweets are for after dinner.'

'Why?' Sherlock pouted.

'Because I don't want you to ruin your dinner. Now open the cards.'

Sherlock balanced the box of sweets on his lap and opened up the first envelope. The card had a cartoon bee on the front that was flying in the shape of a heart. He opened it cautiously and raised an eyebrow at what was written on the inside.

'"I want to BEE with you,"' he read aloud. 'But you're already with me.'

'I know.' John grinned at him. 'I thought it was funny. And since you're always going on about bees I thought it might make you smile.'

'It's completely ridiculous, but I... I like it.'

'Good. Now open the other one. It's not cheesy like the other.'

'Oh. Good. Not that the other one wasn't bad... but it was really bad.' A small smile graced Sherlock's features before the pout came back. He opened the other envelope and pulled the card out of it. It was a dark red in colour, almost the same shade as the envelope. It had painted flowers on the front and elegant script that read "For the one I love on Valentine's Day." Sherlock opened it up and a small whine escaped him before he could stop it. The inside said, "We might have our ups and downs, and sometimes things might not be perfect, but I love you and today, that's all that matters. Happy Valentine's Day. Forever yours, John."

'Do you like it?' John asked. Sherlock nodded and wrapped his arms around John in a tight hug. John hugged him back and rubbed one hand up and down his lover's back.

'Thank you,' Sherlock whispered. 'You're far too good to me. I feel like I don't deserve this.'

'Of course you deserve it. Even Sherlock Holmes deserves to be loved.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' John pulled Sherlock in for a tender kiss, Sherlock humming into his mouth. 'I'll let you eat a couple of those sweets before dinner. You look like you could use one.'

'Yeah.' Sherlock pulled a chocolate out of the box and popped it into his mouth. He moaned softly and closed his eyes, savouring the taste. His eyes snapped open when he remembered dinner and that the roast was still in the oven. He gasped and and sat up quickly, the box falling out of his hand.

'What?' John caught the box just in time, putting it back into his bag. 'Sherlock, what's wrong?'

'What?' John caught the box just in time. 'Sherlock, what's wrong?'

'I left dinner in the oven!' Sherlock cried. 'I left and didn't take it out of the oven!'

'You left the oven on?!' John cried out. 'What the hell?!'

'I was excited about the case! I wasn't thinking! Get us back to Baker Street, now!' The cabby sped up only slightly. Sherlock groaned in frustration. By the time they arrived at Baker Street, the roast had been in the oven at least half an hour too long. Sherlock rushed inside and upstairs to get it out of the oven. John paid their fare and ran into Mrs Hudson, who had come out of her flat to see what all the ruckus was about.

'Sorry, Mrs H,' John apologised. 'Sherlock just forgot he was cooking when he rushed off to take a case.'

'Oh. I wondered what the roast was for. I could smell it smoking about ten minutes ago. I only took it out a few minutes ago.'

'Oh. Well, thank you for saving the flat from burning down.'

'You're welcome. I hope your dinner hasn't been ruined too bad, but the roast looked quite dry.'

'I'm sure we'll manage.' John rushed upstairs when he heard Sherlock swear loudly. He dropped his bag on the floor by the door and went over to Sherlock, who was gripping the edge of the table so tight his knuckles were white.

'It's ruined,' Sherlock whispered, clenching his eyes shut. 'It's all ruined.'

John went over to the roast and frowned slightly when he saw the charred edges. He poked it with the fork Sherlock had obviously used to check how dry it was and sighed when no juices escaped when he poked into it. He set the fork down and turned to hug Sherlock but he had moved over to the sofa, sprawled out face down. John sighed and moved about the kitchen, cleaning things up.

'It's fine, you know?' he said as he cleaned. 'I definitely appreciate the thought, and it's OK that it didn't turn out perfect. We can just order takeaway. But, I mean, you tried to cook my mum's roast. Do you know how loved that makes me feel?' He didn't get a response. All he got was a sharp intake of breath that was supposed to be quiet. John's brow furrowed and he peered into the sitting room. Sherlock was still on the sofa, but his body was shaking in a rhythm John knew all too well. His face fell and he moved over to the sofa, Sherlock's muffled cries much more audible now. He gently turned Sherlock over and laid down alongside him, wrapping him up in a hug. Sherlock cried softly into his shoulder and clutched onto John tight.

'It was supposed to be perfect,' he choked out. 'This is our first Valentine's together. It was supposed to be perfect. Because this date is so important to you. I wanted to do something really special for you. I wanted to cook your mum's roast, I wanted there to be candles lit, I wanted us to drink wine with dinner. I wanted this day to be perfect.'

John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead and began petting his hair. 'It's alright things didn't turn out as planned,' he said softly when Sherlock's cries turned into sniffles. 'You tried to cook my mum's roast. That is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. And while the roast may be ruined, the evening sure isn't. We can order our favourite Chinese takeaway and drink wine with that. You can still light the candles and maybe light a fire too so the flat can warm up. We can still do everything else you had planned, only we won't be eating a roast dinner. It won't be what you had in mind, but it's better than no dinner at all.'

Sherlock nodded into John's chest but didn't let him go. 'Just... hold me for a bit longer before you order, OK?'

'OK.' John kissed Sherlock's forehead again and held him close, one hand petting his lover's hair while the other one rubbed his back. When Sherlock felt he had calmed down he reluctantly let John go so he could order their meal. He stood up after John hung up the phone and passed John a box of matches.

'To light the candles,' he explained. John nodded and set about lighting the twenty candles while Sherlock got started on a fire. It crackled into life just as John finished lighting the candles. He stood up and wiped his hands off on his trousers and smiled sheepishly at John. The smaller man pulled him down for a soft kiss and Sherlock instantly melted against him.

'It's all fine, love,' John said against his lips. 'Just the fact that you tried makes me feel incredibly loved.' Sherlock smiled softly and pulled out his phone, opening the playlist he'd made earlier. He walked into the kitchen and plugged it into the iHome John had bought and pressed play. The flat was soon filled with soothing violin music and Sherlock visibly relaxed. John hugged Sherlock from behind and rested his cheek between his shoulder blades.

'Thank you,' he whispered. 'This is all very romantic. I love it.'

'I'm glad you like it,' Sherlock whispered back. 'I'm just glad I didn't cock everything up completely.'

'You never could.' Sherlock turned around and they kissed again until the doorbell rang, signalling their dinner had arrived. Sherlock went down to pay and John pulled the wine out of the fridge. He noted that it was his favourite and smiled down at the label. He pulled two wine glasses out of the cupboard and the corkscrew out of one of the drawers. He set everything down on the table when he heard Sherlock shuffle up the stairs. He was pouting again. John moved over to him and kissed the pout away, gently tangling his fingers in Sherlock's curls to help him relax.

'Let's eat,' he said when he pulled away. Sherlock merely nodded, licking his lips to taste John. John chuckled and opened the wine, pouring them both a glass as Sherlock set out their food. They sat down at the surprisingly clean table and clinked glasses to signal the start of their meal. They ate in silence for a while, simply enjoying the food. John raised his glass in another toast and Sherlock picked his up and waited for John to speak.

'To a wonderful Valentine's Day,' he said. 'Thank you for everything, even if you did burn the roast.' Sherlock frowned and pulled his glass away before John could clink them together. He turned his face away from John so he wouldn't see the fresh tears in his eyes. John sighed and shook his head, mentally berating himself. He put his glass down and moved over to Sherlock to console him.

'Hey,' he whispered. 'I'm sorry. I was just trying to joke around. I'm sorry.' Sherlock didn't reply, so John grabbed his glass and set it down as well. He tilted Sherlock's face so he would look at him and apologised again. When Sherlock still didn't respond, John pulled him in for yet another kiss. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears escaping and falling down his cheeks. John dug his fingers into Sherlock's hair and pulled, Sherlock's mouth opening in shock and John seized the opportunity, shoving his tongue inside Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock moaned and wrapped his arms around John's waist, resting his hands on his bum and pulling him close until he was practically sat in his lap. John pulled Sherlock up and they stumbled over to the sitting room. They collapsed on the floor in front of the fire and began frantically pulling at their clothes, their lips barely leaving the other's even as they pulled shirts and jumpers of their heads. When they were fully naked, their kisses turned languid though they still held the passion from before.

'Special Valentine's Day sex?' Sherlock whispered against John's mouth.

'Yes. Please.'

'Lube?'

'My chair.' John sat up and grabbed the little packet of lube he had hidden in his chair. 'Who's doing the taking?'

'I'd like to take you, if that's OK. I'd just like to do one thing right today.'

'You didn't do anything wrong today,' John assured him. He passed him the lube and kissed him again. Sherlock moaned softly and ran a hand through John's blonde hair.

'I love you,' he whispered.

'I love you too.'

'On your back, please.' The two men quickly switched places and Sherlock opened the little lube packet, coating his fingers with the gel. John spread his legs for his lover and beckoned him over for another kiss. Sherlock obliged and swirled his fingers against John's puckered hole. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth and gasped when Sherlock pushed a finger inside him. They repeated that pattern, kissing and then another finger, until Sherlock had three digits inside John and John was a trembling mess on the floor as Sherlock stimulated his prostate with each thrust of his fingers.

'Sherlock!' he cried out. 'Stop teasing me! Fuck me!'

'You've got quite a mouth on you,' Sherlock crooned in John's ear. 'I might just have to stuff it full of my cock someday to put it to some good use.'

'Yes. Please. But... But I want...'

'You want me to fuck you. I can do that.' Sherlock removed his fingers and slicked himself with the remaining lube. He positioned himself at John's stretched entrance and pushed inside. John gasped and his hands flew to grasp Sherlock's biceps. He moaned loudly when Sherlock bottomed out, his breath coming out in harsh pants. Sherlock kissed his neck, sucking a possessive mark onto his skin.

'Sherlock,' John groaned out. 'Move. Please.'

Sherlock thrust slowly and deeply at first, drawing out the pleasure until John was relaxed around him and he just couldn't help himself. He grasped John hips, bit down onto the mark he'd sucked on his neck, and began pounding into his lover with no mercy. John cried out Sherlock's name and a hand tangled itself in Sherlock's curls. The other had a firm grip on his waist to hold him close while they moved together. His cock was nestled between their bellies, and so every time Sherlock shifted he rubbed against him. John was cumming in minutes, thick spurts pooling along his stomach and smearing against Sherlock's. Sherlock bit down on the mark on John's neck as he found his own release, soft groans escaping as he emptied himself inside his lover.

'Amazing,' John gasped out. 'Absolutely amazing.'

'You think so?' Sherlock chuckled against John's neck.

'Of course. As always. Never a dull moment with you.'

Sherlock chuckled and laved his tongue around the bite he'd made on John's neck to soothe it. They lied in front of the fire for a few minutes until they got their breath back. Sherlock pulled out and John attempted to sit up. He pulled the blanket off the back of his chair and wrapped himself up in it. Sherlock grabbed one from the shelf John had designated for extra blankets and wrapped himself up in it as well. They kissed again before going back to finish their dinner. That time Sherlock clinked his glass to John's to complete his previous toast.

They finished their meal and took their wine glasses out to the sitting room to sit back down in front of the fire. John put his blanket down on the floor and Sherlock sat down behind him, pressing his body as close to him as possible and wrapping his blanket around them both. John finished his wine and settled against Sherlock, his head resting on his chest. Sherlock wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him close.

'Thank you for all of this,' John whispered. 'It was perfect. I loved it.'

'It was hardly perfect,' Sherlock scoffed. 'I burnt the roast.'

'I know. But it's the thought that counts. Besides, we had a great evening without the roast.'

'Yeah. We did, didn't we?'

'We certainly did. Finish your wine and let's go to bed. We can go shopping tomorrow and I can watch you prepare that roast and we can have it for dinner tomorrow.'

'Make sure I don't burn it this time, yeah?'

'Yeah.' John laughed and pressed a kiss to the underside of Sherlock's jaw. 'Now drink so we can go to bed.'

Sherlock drank the last two swallows of his wine in one gulp. John chuckled and pulled away from him so he could stand. He took their glasses and put them in the sink. Sherlock grabbed both blankets and took them to bed, draping them over his duvet to help keep out the cold. John grabbed the iPhone from the player and turned the music off. Sherlock went around and blew out all the candles so they wouldn't burn all night. The fire could continue until it went out on its own. They crawled into bed, Sherlock spooning John the way he knew he liked. John turned around in his arms and they kissed languidly until Sherlock's eyelids began to droop.

'Thank you,' John said again, kissing Sherlock's eyelids. 'For everything. I loved it. Truly.'

'Good. Maybe next year I won't mess up so badly.'

'You didn't mess up today. You had a case. It's perfectly understandable.'

'Next year I'll say no to a case if Lestrade gives me one.'

'I wouldn't mind spending Valentine's Day on a case with you.'

'Yeah, but it's not the way it's normally spent, is it?'

'No, but are we anywhere near normal?'

'No,' Sherlock said, chuckling.

'So don't worry about it. Whatever we do, so long as we're together, I'll love it.'

'Okay.'

'Okay.'

'I love you.'

'I love you too.'

'Happy Valentine's Day, John.'

'Happy Valentine's Day, Sherlock.'

* * *

The case I used I took from John's blog, The Deadly Tealights. It was posted during Sherlock's supposed death, but it obviously happened before he died. So I took some creative liberties and chose a supposed date for the murder. All the details of the case I got from there. The direct quote came from the blog as well.

I hope you enjoyed your gift, anderson-stole-my-jumper, and I hope you had a nice Valentine's Day even if you didn't have a valentine. But hey! At least all the chocolate is 50% off now! Stock up for when the feels strike.

Happy (late) Valentine's Day everyone!

~TSA


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